


Taken

by CatSamwise



Series: Lightning Over Dromund Kaas [8]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, The Dark Side of the Force, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatSamwise/pseuds/CatSamwise
Summary: Admiral Malavai Quinn is kidnapped.Part of theLightning over Dromund Kaasseries, original plot line.





	Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the year 3622 BBY.
> 
> **Warning: Contains violence and torture.**

The room’s one lamp did not provide much light. Then again, there was little to see – there were no windows, just one door, a lone chair next to a durasteel table and a dirty floor. There was a man in Imperial uniform sitting on the chair. His head was covered in a bag, his hands were tied behind his back. 

Despite the gloomy set-up the man appeared calm. He was not struggling in his bonds, just sitting primly, waiting. 

It was impossible to know how much time had passed, but eventually the door to the dank room opened. Two burly men entered. Their huge arms were covered in scars and tattoos. One of them carried a suitcase which he placed on the table. 

“G’day to you, Admiral,” the first man said. His voice was gruff and low. “So good of you to oblige meeting with us.” 

The second man chuckled under his breath. It was not a pleasant sound. He busied himself with opening the suitcase and arranging its content on the durasteel table. 

The first man yanked on the bag over the Admiral’s head. It was now apparent that the Admiral was not a young man. Although he appeared to still have all his hair, it was almost completely grey. Lines were beginning to settle on his face, around his eyes and mouth, cementing his face in a permanent scowl. The one feature that belayed his age were his eyes, they were a vibrant blue color, sharp and clear. 

The Admiral regarded his two captures in silence, apprising and calculating. 

The first man smirked down at the tied man. “Well, what do you say? Tell us where’s the Wrath and everything will be quick and easy.” 

The Admiral continued to watch his capturers in silence, his blue eyes narrow and intense. 

The first man grinned. “All the better.” He took a step back and the second man came forward. He was holding one of the tools from the table. 

~ 

Sometime later the second man stepped back. The Admiral’s head was reclined forward, his chest was raising and falling hard as he tried to regain his breath. His previously immaculate Imperial uniform was cut and torn. 

The first man, who had been regarding the proceeding from a corner, stepped up and yanked the Admiral by the hair, so that his face was turned upward. “Where is the Wrath?” 

The Admiral took a rugged breath, made eye contact with the man holding his hair and spit with immaculate precision into his eye. 

The first man recoiled, released the Admiral’s head and back-handed him across the face. 

Blood tickled from the corner of the Admiral’s mouth. But the captured man started to laugh gruffly. 

The first man roared in anger, grabbed a random tool from the table and raised it to strike the laughing man. 

The second man caught the first’s arm in the last moment. “Wait,” he said. 

The first man turned to the second. “What?” he demanded. 

The second man pointed to the Admiral’s face. “That’s the first time I’ve seen blood on him.” 

The two men turned to look at the tied man again. Indeed, although his clothes were mangled and torn, there was no blood on them. The first man lifted a piece of cloth with the tool he was still holding in his hand, the skin below was completely whole and intact. 

“Look,” the second man pointed to the floor. There was a tickle of blood running down the leg of the chair and into the drain in the floor. But there was no blood on their captive. 

“Strip him,” ordered the first man. 

The second man complied immediately. He tore the Admiral’s clothes off him none too gently. The moment the clothes were no longer touching the Admiral, they became soggy and coated in blood. The Admiral himself appeared clean, his skin intact. 

Once he was fully unclothed, the two torturers stood in front of him and regarded him. After a moment, the first man swung the tool he still held in hand and hit the Admiral on the left shin. There was a resounding crack of splitting bone and the Admiral cried out. But the leg appeared completely untouched. 

The first man narrowed his eyes. “What trickery is this?” he growled between his teeth. 

The second man started to circle the captive man. He made two circles around the chair before coming to a stop behind the captive. “There’s something on his wrist.” 

The first man went around the chair, he yanked the Admiral’s tied hands, making the man double over and groan. The first man took no notice and inspected his wrists. There was indeed a contraption on them. They had dismissed it as a watch, but upon closer inspection it was apparent it was bulkier than any watch should be. The first man hit the device until it broke and fell of the Admiral’s wrist. 

A reticulum of light run around the admiral’s body. The two men went to stand in front of the seated man once more. 

The true extent of the Admiral’s injures was clearly apparent. His pale body was covered in bruises and cuts, the bone of his left leg was protruding through the skin. But there was something more. 

“What’s that?” the second man asked, pointing to the Admiral’s chest. 

The first man, yanked the injured man’s hair once more, to lift it up, to see his chest clearer. “Some sort of tattoo?” 

The second man shook his head. “No, scars.” 

The first man let go of the Admiral as if burned. He turned to his partner. “What? How is that possible?” 

The second man shook his head. “Dunno. But I know scars when I see ‘em.” 

The torturers studied the scars in silence for a long moment. At last the second man spoke, “the work is exquisite. Different tools, layers upon layer of scars to get the right texture, length and spread. This is the work of a master.” He looked at his partner. “It would have taken weeks, months to apply.” 

“And very painful,” the first man added. 

The second man nodded. “What we did is nothing compared to that.” His voice conveyed his awe and a lot of admiration. 

The first man nodded solemnly. “What does it say?” 

The second man shook his head. “Not Aurebesh.” 

The first man turned, went to the door and banged forcefully on it. A few moments later it opened and a silver of light shined into the room. 

“Get me a translator,” The first man growled. 

The door closed, the first man returned to stand next to his partner. He prodded the Admiral’s injured leg with his foot, making the latter hiss in pain. “Don’t suppose you’ll tell us what it says.” 

The Admiral made an effort to roll his head up to regard his captures. Despite his injuries, despite the loss of blood and the pain, his eyes were still sharp. He glared at the two men in silence and spite. 

Silence stretched in the gritty room. 

At last it was broken by the door opening and a droid entered the room, the door closing immediately behind it. 

The first man shoved the droid until it came to stand in front of the captive. “What language is that?” He demanded. 

The droids eyes blinked in the poor light. “Kittât, master,” it said. 

“Sith language?” the second man asked in surprise. 

“Yes, master,” the droid answered mechanically. 

“Can you read it?” pressed the first man. “What it say?” 

“Of course, master. It reads ‘Property of Eshosria’, master,” the droid said. 

“_Property of…_” the first man repeated distractedly. 

“Who’s Eshosria?” the second man asked. 

The first man shook his head. “His wife,” he said. He looked at his partner. “This needs reporting.” He turned to leave the room, but the second man stopped him. 

“Wait a moment,” the second man said hurriedly. He went around the captive and pushed him until he was doubled over forward. “I thought I saw something.” He looked up to the first man. “There’s more on his back.” 

“Lift him up,” the first man instructed. 

The second man motioned to the droid and together they hung the Admiral’s uncooperative body from a hook in the celling. Once they were done, the Admiral hung limply. His head lolling to the side, but he still contmplated them coldly. 

The two men and the droid ignored the Admiral and circled around him to stand behind. As the second man said, there were more writing on the captive’s back. As opposed to the writing on his chest, which was horizontal, these scars were vertical, spanning the Admiral’s spine from the small of his back to the base of his neck. It was just as elaborate and intricate as the front. 

The first man prodded the droid. 

The droid read aloud, “‘Father of Rycus, Rymela, Melia’” 

“Keep him alive,” growled the first man to the second, pushed the droid in front of him and marched it out of the door. 

~ 

The door to the dark room opened and the first man returned. He was smiling widely as he approached the Admiral. 

“Reverent sir, have I got a surprise for you!” he exclaimed as he approached the prisoner. 

The second man looked up from where he sat. In the first man’s absence he had taken advantage of the Admiral’s vacant chair, ignoring the blood and gore on it. 

The first man stepped up to the Admiral and slapped his face to make him pay attention. “We found your wife.” 

The Admiral blinked, but did not reply. 

“You are one lucky bastard,” the first man continued. “She is what, half your age? You dog.” Unfazed by the Admiral’s unresponsiveness he proceeded. “It appears that your dear darling wife had not even heard you were gone.” He bared his teeth in a grimace. “Or perhaps, she has heard and just doesn’t care that much about you?” He prodded the hanging man in his chest. “Funny how you’re all ‘property of’ and she was out shopping in Kaas City.” 

Still no reaction was forthcoming from the Admiral. The latter was regarding his capturer calmly, or as calmly as a badly injured man could. 

Clearly starting to be annoyed he was not getting any response from his target, the first man stocked over to the second, shoved him off the chair and sat in it himself. He placed his legs atop the table and reclined. “Never mind, we got her now. You’ll have all the time in the world together. If you talk, that is. If not, well…” he spread his hands in a wide gesture. “There won’t be much to ask when our boys get done with her.” 

Still no response was forthcoming. 

The second man stood between the hanging prisoner and the first man, his expression bemused, his stance wide, resigned to wait. 

It was a long while before the door opened again. This time, two additional men entered, they were dragging a woman between them. The woman’s cloths were dirty and torn at the hem, her dark hair obscuring her face. They closed the door behind them, dropped the woman on the floor and stood beside her as a sort of guard. 

The first man sprung from his seat, walked to the Admiral, grabbed his chin and made him look up. “Look!” he demanded. “See your precious wife! See what we will do to her!” 

The Admiral lifted his gaze, his eyes sliding quickly from his capturer to the woman on the floor. At the same moment, the woman lifted her head and their eyes met. 

A charged moment passed, then suddenly the woman lifted from the floor, standing up easily. Her hands rose and the two men standing beside her were in the air. She brought her hands together and the airborne men collided in front of her with a sickening crack. They fell dead at her feet. 

Both the first and second man turned around at the sound, their eyes widened in surprise. But before they could do anything, the woman gestured with her hands and the tools that were still arranged on the table lifted and flew to impale the second capturer. He looked down at his body, looked up at his partner, made a gurgling sound and fell. 

The first man, who had been routed to the spot, sprung at the site of his partner’s death and attempted to reach the door. The woman lifted her other hand and he rose in the air, clawing at his neck. 

The woman sauntered to the dangling man and said quietly, darkly, “I don’t think so.” She twisted her free hand and one of the tools imbedded in the body of the second man flew into her hand. “No one touches my husband,” she said directly into the first man’s face, then imbedded the tool forcefully into the man’s right eye. She turned from him and he collapsed on the floor. 

The woman smiled contently to herself, but the Admiral made a sound at the back of his throat and she lifted her eyes. Immediately, she shook away her thoughts, and rushed to him. 

She used the Force to lift him slightly from the hook, but he shook his head. 

“Legs… broken…” he rasped. 

She nodded once, turned and brought the chair to position it behind the Admiral. She lifted him off the hook again and gently lowered him onto the chair. 

The Admiral sunk gratefully on the hard seat. 

“Hold on a little longer, my love,” Eshosria said gently. She proceeded to untie the Admiral’s hands. He groaned his reply. 

Eshosria frowned and touched her husband’s shoulders. He moaned in pain at the touch. She proceeded to straddle his lap, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and closed her eyes. The Admiral leaned forward, to rest his head against her chest. 

Nothing but their breath sounded in the room for a long while. 

Finally Eshosria opened her eyes and the Admiral lifted his head to look at her. 

“Better?” she asked softly. 

“I love you,” he answered. 

Eshosria’s fingers buried in her husband’s hair as she lowered her face to capture his lips. The Admiral’s partially healed hands rested on her legs, at either of his sides, then slowly sneaked under her dress. 

When the door opened a few moments later, they were found in that position exactly. 

Three men entered the room. The middle one was dressed in a uniform very similar to the one the Admiral initially wore. The two other men were clearly bodyguards. 

“What is the meaning of this?” the middle man exclaimed, clearly surprised to see the carnage in the room and the kissing couple. 

Suddenly, the door banged closed behind the three men and before anyone could react, the Admiral pulled his hands from under his wife’s dress. He was holding a blaster in each hand and he shot the two bodyguards in the head, not breaking the kiss with his wife for a single second. 

The soldier spun in the spot, his jaw slack in surprise. 

The Admiral and Eshosria broke apart. She was smiling, a corner of the Admiral’s mouth was tugging upwards as well. 

Eshosria lifted off her husband, turned and came to stand beside and a little behind his chair. She placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. The Admiral placed his hands, still holding the blasters, in his lap. He tilted his head as he regarded the other man in the room. 

“Moff Glealit,” the Admiral greeted levelly. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t get up.” 

“Admiral Quinn,” the Moff answered, having managed to regain his composure. “Explain all this.” 

The Admiral laughed mirthlessly. “I explain? Very well… Moff Glealit, you have sabotaged numerous Imperial operations and campaign for personal gain, you have wasted Imperial men, resources and time, you have kidnapped and tortured an Imperial officer, you have committed treason of the highest order. You will be executed for your crimes.” 

“Delusional and deranged!” the Moff cried. “You have no proof, no support. You will not leave this room alive!” 

The Admiral’s lips quirked in a full smirk. Despite himself the Moff took a step back. 

“I require nothing but my wife,” Quinn said, lifting his hand to take Eshosria’s hand from his shoulder and kissing her knuckles lightly. He turned his head to look up at her. “Would you give me the honor, my… love?” 

The Moff started fumbling with his jacket, attempting to take hold of his own weapon. In the meantime, Eshosria looked down on her husband, her eyes twinkling in amusement. 

“Of course, my darling,” she purred. “I love to watch you executing useless Moffs.” 

Quinn smiled a genuine smile at her and turned to the Moff, who had finally managed to extract his own blaster. “Pathetic,” he spat, lifted the blaster he still held in his other hand and shot the Moff. 

The Moff fell, a look of surprise etched into his dead face. 

For a moment the room was completely silent, then the blaster Quinn held in his hand clutter to the floor, the hand that held it hang limply, Quinn’s whole body slumping. 

Eshosria swore under her breath, holding on to her husband least he fall off the chair completely. 

With one hand occupied, she lifted her skirt with the other. A strap was wound around her thigh, she took out a small communication device and pressed on it. 

“Live,” she said into it, her voice suddenly tight with worry. “Repeat, we are live.” She let go of the device and put both hands on her husband. “Get in here you sons of hutts,” she mumbled into the empty room. 

It wasn’t long that sound of blaster fire and general commotion could be heard from behind the door. The Admiral had long since lost consciousness. 

Finally, the door burst open and several operatives filled in. They fanned around the room, two of them rushing to Quinn with medical equipment at the ready. Eshosria stepped back to watch as they worked to stabilize the Admiral so that he could be transported. 

A huge man entered the room and regarded the proceeding. He spotted Eshosria walked to her and saluted. “Perimeter secure, m’lady.” 

As the man neared the feeble light of the lamp his features could be seen more easily. He was not a young man, but clearly seasoned by many battles. A scar ran across the left side of his face, turning his eye blind. His hair had receded but he still supported a short grey beard, which coupled with great bushy and grey eyebrows, made him look very menacing. He wore no rank or insignia, but it was clear that he was the commander of the troops. 

“Thank you, Pierce,” Eshosria answered, not taking her eyes off her husband. 

They stood in silence for a few moments, the woman’s figure dwarfed by the man’s. 

“Finally got himself in a bind he couldn’t get out off, hu?” Pierce said a little roughly. 

Eshosria turned on him then, her eyes blazing. This made the man take a step back. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. 

Pierce inclined his head. “Apologies, my lord.” 

Eshosria nodded and turned back to watch Quinn being lifted onto a stretcher. 

~ 

The man in white slammed both fists into the consul in front of him, denting it beyond repair. As a result the monitor blinked into darkness. Unsatisfied with the damage, the man lifted his head and roared into the ceiling. 

All was quiet for a few moments after the outburst. 

Then the man in white turned from the ruined consul and started pacing to and fro across the room. 

“The Wrath is smarted then I gave him credit,” he said out-loud. “He married Quinn off to a Sith the second time. Smart bastard.” 

“Perhaps it’s time we stopped playing games then, don’t you think?” a female voice said from behind the man. 

The man in white spun to look at the woman leaning casually against the door frame. She wore a cloak of black and gold, her attitude casual. 

“I will speak with Father,” the man in white answered. “Perhaps our plans can be advanced in another way.” He walked briskly out of the room. 

“You do that,” the woman said in a half-amused tone to his retreating back.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I wrote this before KotFE actually came out… What can I say? I had PLANS. They’re probably not happening now…
> 
> Also, I came back from the ether... This is a combination of a review I got recently as well as some computer late spring-cleaning... I found these on the hard drive and decided to post *shrugs*
> 
> Comments make my day :)


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